Chapter Sixteen

Time: Twelve minutes after the start of the Denon-Ryloth Hyperspace incident.

“What kind of ship is this?” Taylor asked as she walked down the middle of a white-walled corridor. The sides were covered in panels that looked to be made of some hard plastic and her booted steps rang over a rough, grated floor.

It felt as if the entire ship was designed to be as clean as possible, hiding all the wires and pipes and mechanical bits behind removable walls. There were rooms that accessed what looked like engines and other systems that looked important but that she couldn’t make heads or tails of with her limited bug vision.

She didn’t know much about spaceships. Not nearly enough to judge one, but the layout of the Republic ship suggested that it was made for tight skirmishes in the corridors and quick and easy access to all the important components, presumably to keep it running if it was attacked.

It was, unlike Sib Nark’s Profits of Merchandising, a warship, albeit a small one.

Maybe that was why she wasn't surprised when her range slid over a group of armed humans and aliens hidden around the next intersection. She sighed and had them move to escort her. More firepower wouldn’t go amiss, especially if things went horribly wrong.

“Where’s the command area on this thing?” she asked.

HK-47, whose footfalls on the grated floor were exactly as loud as one would expect from a robot, was quick to respond. “Conjecture: Judging by the layout seen so far, the scans made of the ship from the Profits of Merchandising, and the data downloaded from the extranet, the bridge of this vessel is at the very front.”

“And how long will it take to get everyone into position?” she asked.

Two corridors down she used some bugs to warn her freedom fighters of a group of Republic soldiers moving to intercept them, then used another batch of bugs to choke the soldiers and poke their eyes. They went down in a blaze of ion fire.

“Comment: With the quality of the help you have? A decade would be insufficient. But they will reach their assigned positions in a few minutes.”

“Right,” she said as she moved on ahead. Behind her trailed a dozen ex-slaves, all of them apparently capable bridge crew, and twice that number of battle droids that could serve as the same, all of them surrounding a group of unarmed and unhappy Republic pirates. They just had to get to the bridge and she could move on to the next part of her plan.

They turned down another corridor and arrived at a thick door surrounded by red lights. “Announcement: We have arrived.”

“You’d make a great GPS,” Taylor deadpanned. She gestured at the door. “Can you open it up?”

“Negation: I cannot open this blast door. There is a biometric lock on the panel next to it, however.”

Taylor noticed the blocky panel and nodded. “Tell two of the battle droids to bring my Gungan friend over, then get ready to take out any guests on the other side of the door.” She moved to the side while spreading out her collection of guards, soldiers and personnel like a wall of blaster-bolt absorbent bodies.

The Gungan blubbered as he was pushed forward, but quieted as soon as he was within her range and walked with none of his liquid languidness over to the panel to press his hand on it.

HK-47 brought his oversized blaster rifle up. “Announcement: Piracy protocols loaded and ready, master.”

***

Time: Twenty-Three minutes after the start of the Denon-Ryloth Hyperspace incident.

His ship completed the jump from hyperspace with a rattle, then settled into a smooth flight through the empty void.

Narrowing his eyes, the captain looked over his bridge, taking note of the posture of his crew as they pored over their consoles. “Any surprises?” he asked.

His first mate shook his head. “No, captain, nothing but empty space and a whole lot of ships in the long range scanners.”

“Good,” he said. That was as it should be. “The others?”

“The Gut-Ripper, Raider and Stinky are already here, Captain Triras, sir” his scanner operator said from her seat. “Annnd the Thick Stick just showed up, late as usual. Putting it up on the main command display.”

He grunted an affirmative and pressed a few keys on the arm of his command seat. A holographic display of local space appeared, a bubble of flat rings with distance markers all centred on the Beskar Mace. The other ships, three escort frigates and a converted freighter, were arrayed in a loose formation around her. She was the only Mon Calamari cruiser in this corner of space, as far as he was aware, and he was damned proud of her.

It had taken years of doing business that had left him feeling sick to his stomach to afford his MC40, but it was the greatest purchase he had ever made. Rubbing a hand gently across the armrest as if carressing the Mace, he refocused on the task at hand. This ship made him a name with the Hutts, someone worth paying attention to. Now he to had to prove his worth again.

“Where’s our target?” he demanded.

The woman on the scanner was quick to reply. “Right here, sir,” she said before bringing up another image.

The Super Freighter Profits of Merchandising was huge. Easily twice as big as his Mace. But it was an ugly thing. All angular and utilitarian, with nothing to please the eye about it. “Is that the Republic ship?” he asked, pointing to a different vessel that was just barely registering on the scans.

“Aye, sir, IFF reads as the Bureaucratic Enforcer. Intersector Revenue Services.”

He huffed. “Did they get the job done at least?” he asked. “Comms, get me a link with the fool in charge.”

“Aye, sir,” his comms officer said.

A hologram appeared in the centre of the bridge, glowing a bright and clear blue as the reception between the two ships was nearly crystal clear. Floating there, just slightly larger than life, was a Falleen male, his uniform frumpled and dirty and crooked. “Hey, hi, sorry, yeah, I’m with ya,” he said before giving them a brilliant smile and straightening his hat. “How can I help?”

Triras glared at the fool. “Put your captain on the comms. Now.”

“Ah, well,” the Falleen said. He looked off and away from the holoprojector, then came back with a sickening grin. “I can’t do that. Captain’s, uh, he’s playing, with some slaves. We, uh, took a few of the prettier ones. That’s okay, right?”

He felt his grip tighten on the armrest of his seat, then consciously loosened his grip. “I will tell my clients as much. As long as the main target is still aboard the ship we will have no issues. Tell me of the Profits’ condition.”

“The what?” the Falleen asked before the faintest light of intelligence sparked in his eye, then sputtered. “Oh, that ship. Yeah, it’s okay. We had to knock her out of space, you know? Tried to run for it. And, uh, sent those Vultures at us, but we got lucky with an ion blast. Not lucky I mean, we followed protocol. I think.”

Triras felt his jaw starting to ache. “Understood. We’ll begin boarding as soon as we reach them. Triras of the Beskar Mace, out.” With a swipe of his hand he ordered the comms shut and watched it wink out before speaking.

“Send a message to the Stinky. Have them tail that Republic ship,” he didn’t wait for the ‘aye sir’ before giving his next order. “Get me targeting on any debris near the Profits of Merchandising. Find those knocked out Vultures. They start moving and I want them burning in space. Order the Thick Stick to prepare for boarding maneuvers. We’ll go by the books here. And inform our own troopers to get ready for boarding as well. We’ll dock with her ourselves. I don’t trust the Thick Stick’s crew to do anything right. And make sure the others give us some room to maneuver and watch our damned backs. We’ll be sitting mynocks for a while.”

A chorus of ayes greeted him.

***

Time: Thirty-Seven minutes after the start of the Denon-Ryloth Hyperspace incident.

Taylor watched with mounting anticipation as the five ships approached. She could see them out of the Enforcer’s bridge window, but they were small and distant specks, only the brass hull of the Belkar Mace sticking out from the void of space as it moved to approach the Profits.

She hoped that things went to plan, but knew better than to expect complete success. All of the best fighters were with her now, and the Profits had an entire ship’s worth of Republic soldiers locked in one of its holds. At least those left behind were armed and had a few hundred droids for support.

Not as much as she would have liked. Not by half.

One of the ships, the Stinky she thought, was moving closer to them. It was little more than a tin can affixed to a box with engines strapped on the back, but HK-47 said that for all of its ugliness and smaller size, it was just as armed as her own new ship.

The two other escorts, both now circling a distance away, were no better.

Outnumbered and outgunned. But they had one key advantage. Surprise.

She hoped it would be enough.

“HK,” she called out. The delay between order, translation and action was going to be a problem, she knew, but it wasn’t one she could do anything about on such a short amount of time. “Get us moving towards that line of freighters.” She turned and pointed to the holographic display in the room’s centre. There were plenty of ships in the area, though they were dispersed. Mostly. One group was fairly tightly knit. “Tell Xarly to send the distress signals. Ask for civilian assistance on behalf of the Republic. Get those fighters back online and tell the Republic fighters to come back, double time.”

“Statement: I shall relay your orders, Master.”

“HK-47,” she said before he could start translating. “Tell everyone that I wish them good luck. And to open fire whenever they can.”

“Comment: With pleasure!”

***